


Sharing of Sheets

by haras_onom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Character, Destiel - Freeform, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haras_onom/pseuds/haras_onom
Summary: After being raised from perdition by a certain Angel of The Lord, Dean Winchester has been having trouble sleeping. The only solution to the problem that Dean's found is having someone with him in bed, and for the past month, that position has been filled with various women across the United States. When Castiel finds out about the issue, he feels oddly compelled to help. So begins the sharing of sheets.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 144





	Sharing of Sheets

The faint sound of music drifted throughout the impala, threatening to lull Sam Winchester to sleep. In his defense, it was three in the morning and he and Dean were driving to the motel after taking out an especially nasty nest of vampires. He deserved to rest, but one look at his brother told Sam that Dean was also about to pass out, so he stayed awake out of solidarity.

“About five minutes out,” Sam said, to himself and to Dean. Five more minutes until a hot shower — albeit with crappy pressure — and a slightly above mediocre mattress.

Dean cleared his throat. “I’m gonna drop you off at the motel and head out to the nearest bar.” He kept his eyes on the road when he said this, no doubt expecting Sam’s response.

“The hell you are!” Sam said. “You look like you just got run over by every car in Bobby’s yard.”

“I’ve looked worse,” Dean remarked, still not making eye contact.

Sam generally doesn’t involve himself in Dean’s life choices, which include but are not limited to sex and drinking. Dean’s a big boy, and he’s never gotten himself into something he couldn’t handle. But in the past month, it was like he’d kicked it up to seventh gear. Dean didn’t just go out to celebrate or because he was bored, he drank like he was _obsessed_. Sam wanted to stay out of it, he really did, but it had gone so far that they now got separate rooms at motels so that Dean could bring some girl back to bed every single night. Something was clearly wrong with Dean and, like always, Sam was going to have to pull him out of whatever pit he’d thrown himself into.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Sam pleaded. This time, Dean spared him an uneasy glance, but his eyes were quickly glued to the road again.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Dean forced a laugh. “I’m just making up for lost time.”

 _Lost time_ being Dean’s four months in Hell.

“I know that isn’t true.”

“Of course it is, Sammy. Besides, it’s none of your business.”

“I’m your brother,” Sam snapped. “Whatever’s going on with you is my business.”

“Nothing is going on,” Dean said slowly, forcefully. Begging Sam to just drop it. But Sam was determined, and there was no going back now.

“If you’re fine,” Sam started, “then don’t go out tonight. Just go to bed.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t!” Dean finally yelled, turning to look at Sam, his face reeking of desperation. It broke Sam’s heart to see his brother like this.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, “Why can’t you just go to bed?”

The car suddenly stopped, and Sam was surprised to see that they were sitting in the motel parking lot. Dean wordlessly turned off the car but kept his hands gripping the wheel. He was facing front again, looking miserable all the while.

“Dean,” Sam prodded again.

“Every time,” Dean choked out. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Hell.”

Dean couldn’t bring himself to share the details: the hooks in his skin, tearing him apart bit by bit. The blood in his mouth, on his hands, on Alistair. The screams filling up his ears and his ribcage. The cracking of bones, the pulling of teeth. The endless days of torture, all ending with a proposal that Dean eventually accepts because he’s a coward and a hypocrite.

Dean also couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam because he knew that his little brother would be staring at him with his big brown eyes telling him _it’s okay_ and _they’ll get through this_. As if Sam was the older brother and Dean was just a screw-up little baby. As if Dean had any right to load his problems onto Sam. As if Dean was allowed to have anyone looking out for him.

“I have nightmares every night,” Dean continued, knowing that he might as well empty all his closets while they’re here. “But they’re not so bad if I have someone in bed with me. So I… go out and pick up a chick. That’s why I insist on going to bars every night and getting two rooms.”

“Dean,” Sam started in that empathetic tone of his.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean laughed pathetically, “I’m the biggest man-slut you’ve ever seen.”

“No,” Sam said, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Not at all. I’m sorry you’ve been having to go through this alone. But now I know and — and hell, I’ll sleep in your bed.”

“Uh, I’m not about to be spooned by my little brother, you freak.”

“Well obviously not, but I can be there for you.”

“No.”

“It’s a good idea, Dean. Please let me help you.”

“You shouldn’t have to!” he snapped. “I should be looking after you, not the other way around.”

“I can’t believe you still think that,” Sam shook his head in disbelief, “We look after _each_ _other_. It’s a two-way street.”

“We’re not sharing a bed, and that’s final,” Dean said, channeling his inner John Winchester. He stared down his brother, and Sam realized that he wasn’t going to change Dean’s mind. He sighed.

“At least sleep in my room.”

“And waste a perfectly good, already-paid-for motel room? Besides, I don’t want to wake you up. Sorry, Sammy, you’re not winning this one.”

Sam gave Dean one last pleading look, but Dean wouldn’t budge. They could argue for hours, but instead, they silently grabbed their bags and got out of the car. Before they parted ways to go to their respective rooms, Sam pulled Dean in a tight embrace.

“Good night,” Dean murmured into his shoulder. Sam wished him the same, but now knew better than to think that it’d be true.

Castiel sighed.

Once again, his head was filled with screams. Screams that he had thought been resolved, but evidently, had only been postponed. For months after Dean Winchester’s rise, he’d call out to Cas every night. Unknowingly, instinctively the hunter cried to the being who raised him from perdition. But for the past month, the screams had ceased. Castiel didn’t think much of it, presuming that Dean had just managed to quell his nighttime trauma. As things with Dean Winchester usually go, Castiel was proven wrong.

At the moment, Cas had been tracking a gang of demons that he had been told could lead him to Lilith. After 48 hours of trailing the halfwits, Castiel deemed them useless and thus, ditchable. He revealed himself to them and smote them all, and then flew to the source of the screams in his head.

Arriving in Dean’s motel room silently, Cas surveyed his surroundings. He was surprised to see that Sam wasn’t there, but his focus quickly shifted to Dean’s writhing form. The man had torn the bed’s sheets and blankets off of him and was gripping his pillow for dear life. Castiel closed the distance between the two of them, placing two fingers on Dean’s sticky forehead. He saw a glimpse into his mind, which did nothing but confirm that Dean was indeed experiencing Hell again. Castiel pushed further into his head, trying to find some way to help that didn’t involve actually entering his nightmare. Of course, the angel could enter if need be, but it’s likely that Dean would be unresponsive and the effort would be wasted. Castiel finally found the solution that Dean himself had been using for the past month; the reason for the lack of nightly terrors. He grimaced at the sight of the various girls in Dean’s various beds, their hands in his hair, on his chest. Cas sped past those parts to find what really helped Dean: the intimacy that came after the sex. That, the angel could help with.

Castiel withdrew his palm from Dean’s head, not even having noticed that his hand had decided to cup the hunter’s face instead of just laying two fingers on it. He then circled to the other side of the bed and laid down. Dean was still thrashing, so Cas wrapped an arm around the man, constricting him slightly and actually calming him down. It was an awkward and rigid gesture, but what else was to be expected? In his long existence, Castiel had never done anything remotely like this. Despite his inexperience, the angel’s presence did seem to be helping Dean.

Castiel was glad that no angel was here to see this. Well, technically his superiors could be spying down on him from heaven, but he considered that to be unlikely. For all they knew, he was still tailing those demons. He did have to be careful though, around the Winchesters. There were whispers in heaven. Whispers about how Castiel the soldier was having doubts, having feelings. They were true, of course, which worried Cas. If any of his brothers or sisters saw him now, he’d have a lot of explaining to do with very little explanations to give. All he knew was that he cared about Bobby Singer and the Winchesters, more so than he should. He definitely cared about Dean in particular ‘more so than he should’, although the angel was having a hard time defining his feelings for the green-eyed man that lay in his arms. Emotions, which were no doubt an effect of being around humans, were messy and complicated and impossible to understand. Castiel could dwell on it all night, but instead, he resigned himself to closing his eyes and waiting for morning to come.

Dean Winchester awoke to a strange situation, one which he was not expecting when he went to bed the night before: being the little spoon. His eyes shot open and his brows scrunched together in confusion as he tried to remember the events of the previous night. He’d said goodnight to Sam, and went to his room. Is it possible that Dean left to go to a bar anyway? No, he reasoned, to forget that entirely he’d need to be 100% more hungover than he was. So whose arms were he in? For a moment, he wondered if Sam had snuck in against his wishes, but one long look at the arm carelessly strewn across his body revealed the mystery guest’s identity. Dean would know that trenchcoat anywhere.

“Cas?” he asked tentatively. Dean was torn: on the one hand, Castiel was in his bed. On the other hand, _Castiel_ was in his bed. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

“You called out to me last night,” Castiel murmured, his breath tickling Dean’s ear. Dean waited for the angel to go on, but Cas seemed to think that that was a sufficient explanation.

“So you decided to spoon me?”

“If that’s what this is called, then yes,” Castiel said, still not untangling his body from Dean’s.

“Don’t you think you should’ve asked first?” Dean finally snapped.

“If I woke you last night and then asked, you wouldn’t have said yes.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t have!” Dean finally spun around to face Castiel, giving him a little shove that didn’t do much, seeing that they were still lying down. Cas got the message, however, and scooted back a whole inch. “You can’t just get into my bed.”

Castiel quirked his head. “You called me for help, I came. How is this different than when you have women sleep with you?”

“Because you’re not a woman,” Dean said. _Because you’re Cas_ , he thought.

“I can change vessels if you wish. I’d rather not, but —”

“Don’t,” Dean quickly said. This left Castiel more confused.

“Are you uncomfortable with the sexual implications?” the angel questioned, “Because I can assure you that I don’t want to have sex with you.”

Dean pushed down the wave of disappointment he felt.

“Thanks for the info, Cas,” he said bitterly.

Castiel got the sense that he shouldn’t have said that, which put him back to square one.

“How did you know that I’ve been sleeping with chicks every night?” Dean grumbled.

“I saw it when I searched through your mind to find the best way to help you,” Castiel said nonchalantly.

Dean’s face twisted in disgust, and he finally sat up. “Well, then I hope you enjoyed the porno, you freak.” Dean hated the words coming out of his mouth. At this point, he couldn’t tell how much of this anger was real and how much of it was just him performing. Performing, because that’s all he seems to do.

Castiel also sat up, which put the two right back into one another’s personal space.

“I took no joy in seeing you like that,” Cas said. “Forced to have sex just so you can get a night of sleep. I’m sorry that I didn’t come sooner.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that.

“‘Forced’ is not the word I would use,” Dean said, squirming at how Castiel made him out to be some kind of hooker, selling his body for sleep. “It’s not like I don’t like sex.”

“I’m aware. But you must get tired of it.”

The last person Dean wanted to discuss his sex life with, besides Sam and Bobby, was Cas.

“Casual sex has gotten a little old,” Dean admitted after a while. He let the sentence dangle, knowing he was too much of a coward to finish the thought and that Cas was too much of a child to know what Dean was thinking.

“In any event,” Castiel said, “You calmed down a considerable amount after I arrived.”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, looking at his hands. He knew that that had been his best night since Hell, better than any of the ones he’d had over this past month. “Thanks, Cas.”

“What, I’m not a freak anymore?”

Dean looked up to see a smirk on Castiel’s face. The stone-cold angel told a joke; someone call the newspaper.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Dean said. “Though for future reference, ask first.”

Dean caught himself a second too late. _For future reference_. What a stupid thing to say after a one time deal.

“You’re right,” Castiel said, seemingly unfazed by Dean’s word choice. “In the name of efficiency, I’ll go ahead and ask you: can I come back tonight?”

Dean raised his eyebrows and for a moment, Castiel was afraid that he had totally misread the situation.

“I just figured that it would be better to have me in your bed than a stranger,” Cas explained.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Dean said sheepishly.

“Then I better get going,” Castiel rose from the bed. “See you tonight.”

“See ya,” Dean said softly, but the angel was already gone.

Sam lasted a whole two hours on the road before asking.

“So,” he started in such a way that Dean already knew where this was going. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fantastic,” Dean said, letting a little venom slip into his voice so that his little brother would get the message: _I don’t want to talk about it_.

Sam couldn’t read Dean’s response, so he shrugged and said, “Just remember that I’m here for whatever.”

“How can I forget, with you constantly reminding me?” Dean flashed a teasing smile.

Sam paused. “Do we still have to pay for separate rooms?”

“Yes.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue —

Luckily for Dean, _Immigrant Song_ just started. He cranked up the radio so it was blaring, and tuned out Sammy and the thumping in his chest.

This time, Dean was awake when Castiel came.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heya Cas,” the hunter said, trying to sound casual and charming all at once. He was already in bed and under the covers, but was sat up and watching cartoons. Dean was sure to put on actual pajama pants instead of just wearing boxers like he usually did. The Winchester boys had had an uneventful day, filled with driving and researching and thinking about the coming night.

“Where’s Sam?” Cas asked, still standing at the foot of the bed, blocking the TV.

“We’ve been getting separate rooms.”

Castiel quirked his head, body language screaming: why?

“I couldn’t have sex with Sam one bed over,” Dean said like it was obvious.

“But you’re not having sex tonight.”

“No, but I still don’t want Sam to be an arm’s length away.”

“Ah,” Castiel said. “You still feel embarrassed that I’m here.”

Dean was about to argue, but instead he just said, “Well, yeah, Cas. Aren’t you?”

“Not at all. I’d actually rather be here with you than chasing demons,” the angel said. He was worried that that was the wrong thing to say — too vulnerable, too interested — but it made Dean have to hide a smirk, so Castiel figured it must have been okay. He wanted to be patient with Dean’s insecurity, but as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, Castiel had a hard time understanding where Dean was coming from. He knew that humans weren’t all too accepting of those who didn’t fall under the category of heterosexual, but Cas had already clarified that this sharing of a bed was not sexual. Romantic, maybe, if the angel let himself hope. Platonic, most likely.

“Are you gonna stand there all night?” Dean prodded jokingly, with an air of nervousness in his voice.

“Of course not,” Castiel smiled softly and crossed to the other side of the bed. He started to climb on top, but stopped suddenly when Dean began to sputter. “Yes?” Castiel asked, slightly annoyed and mostly confused.

“That’s not how you get in bed,” Dean insisted.

“Well, how would I know?”

“Okay, fair enough. Here’s the tutorial for dummies —”

“That’s a little harsh,” Castiel interrupted.

“Dude, it was a… you know what? Nevermind. Lesson one: strip down to your shirt and pants.”

Dean knew that he was really asking for it. He could’ve just let Cas get in bed with his stupid, iconic trench coat on and called it a night, but no. Dean had to put himself through the tantalizing torture of watching Castiel slowly take off his coat, and then his suit jacket, and fold them while putting them on a chair. Dean had to watch as Castiel slid off his shoes, loosened his tie, and took off his belt. The hunter was grateful that the angel couldn’t see what was running through his head at that particular moment; if he could, then Dean was sure he’d fly off and never talk to him again.

“Now?” Cas questioned.

“Actually get under the covers,” Dean instructed. Castiel did what he was told, and Dean slid down so that they were both on their backs, staring up at the crumbling ceiling. Dean reached over to the remote and turned off the TV, making the only sounds in the hotel room the steady breathing of the pair and the remote honks of cars.

“Do you want me to, I think the word was, spoon you?” Castiel asked after a few moments of this silence.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. _Yes, yes, yes_ , his idiotic brain chanted at him.

“Let’s just see where the night takes us,” he said instead, forcing a laugh.

“Alright then. Good night.”

“Night,” Dean said, shoving the wish out of his head that he’d wake up in Cas’s arms again.

This sharing of sheets went on for a week before Sam became suspicious and demanded answers.

“We can’t keep getting two rooms, Dean,” Sam insisted. The two brothers were sitting across from each other at a roadside diner. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and took a disgustingly huge bite of his burger. “It’s a waste of money.”

“I’ve been making up the money in pool games,” Dean countered, not bother to finish chewing and swallowing his food.

“I shouldn’t have to give you an economics class lecture for you to know why it’s still a waste of money.”

“Oh, look at you, college boy. Sorry we can’t afford your special hair conditioners.”

“I just don’t see why we’re still doing this,” Sam sighed. “You’re not hooking up anymore.”

 _No_ , Dean thought, _I’m just snuggling up to an Angel of the Lord. No big deal_. But he couldn’t tell Sammy that.

“I just don’t want to be waking you up with my nightmares, is all,” Dean lied.

“That’s not fair,” Sam pouted his signature pout, back from the golden days of their childhood. “Dean, you’ve always been there for me. Through all my nightmares, and there’s been a lot throughout the years. You’re my big brother and we should be going through this together. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Dean was embarrassed. Embarrassed that he was so weak as to break in Hell, embarrassed that he came back a pansy who couldn’t get through the night alone, and embarrassed that Cas had to come save his damsel-in-distress ass every night. Dean hated being vulnerable in front of Sam — probably because he basically raised the kid — but he looked in his brother’s big doe eyes and knew that he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Maybe for another night or two?

“Sam,” Dean started.

“Please,” the younger man begged, “I’m the reason you went to Hell. This, this is all on me.”

“It’s not,” Dean said sternly. “Don’t you dare think that.”

Dean made the mistake of looking in Sam’s eyes again, and he cracked.

“Okay, Sammy, okay,” he conceded. “Hope you’re ready to have a roommate again.”

Sam sighed. “Good. I’ll try to help out with your nightmares.”

“Um, they’ve actually been getting better,” Dean lied, for the millionth time since he got back from Hell, but hey, who’s counting?

“Glad to hear.”

Dean flashed a tight-lipped smile, and ate his last fry, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this predicament.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said to the night air. “You got your ears on?”

It was nearing ten o’clock, which was a bit early for a Winchester night, but Castiel always seemed to know when to come on his own. He usually came when Dean was already in bed, but things had to be a bit different tonight. Dean had just excused himself from the room.

 _Where are you heading?_ Sam had asked

 _Out for a smoke_ , Dean smirked, shoving on his jacket. Sam gifted him bitch-face number fifty. _I’m just going out for a walk_ , Dean amended, _be back in fifteen minutes_.

And here he was, on the corner of the motel where Sam couldn’t see him, talking to himself and, hopefully, to his angel. _His angel_. Dean scoffed at his word choice. As if Castiel was anyone but Heaven’s. As if Castiel could ever be anyone else’s, least of all him.

“I hope you can hear me, because I can’t wait too much longer for you,” Dean said. “Sam and I are sharing a room again. He can’t know you sleep with me, so you’ve got to be sneaky. Come after he’s asleep. No pillow talk tonight, sorry. Uh… see you tonight.”

With that, Dean hurried back to the room, his ears already a bit red from the wintry wind. Sam was already in bed and on his laptop, which Dean was praying would be closed sooner than later. In a fashion a little less timely than one would’ve hoped, both boys were in bed with the lights off. Sam was presumably asleep, but Dean laid with his eyes open, waiting. And with a whoosh of wind, so quiet it could have been written off as a hiccup of the air conditioner, Castiel was there. Surprisingly, he had landed himself under the covers. Dean supposed it shouldn’t be too surprising since he was a celestial being and all, but it was still a neat party trick. However, with all of the angel’s skills, he still managed to fly himself a bit too close to Dean. Well, closer than they usually start the night off being. Obviously, they’d been closer, but that was just an occurrence that could be shrugged off as subconscious nothingness. An occurrence in which Dean could wake up enveloped in warmth and pretend to be asleep for just a little bit longer. He shook these thoughts from his head and turned towards Cas.

“Sorry about the third wheel,” he whispered, quiet enough that he was sure Sam couldn’t hear.

“I thought you said no pillow talk,” Castiel said. He didn’t smile when he said it, but Dean could tell that it was a joke. A week ago, he would have rolled his eyes and told himself that he needed to introduce Cas to Urban Dictionary. But now, with the extra time they spend together, Dean could read Castiel better. He liked the sensation.

“Yeah, but I can’t help myself,” the hunter responded. “So, you always hear my prayers?”

“If they’re directed at me, yes.”

“Then all those times you left me high and dry, that was just you being an ass?” Dean grinned sleepily.

“I do have a life outside of you, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said in that pointed voice of his. “And I think ‘all those times’ is a hyperbole.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Anyway, good night.”

“Good night,” the angel said.

“Good night, you two!” called Sam from the other bed. Dean could basically hear his shit-eating grin.

“Sam, it’s —”

“I _said_ good night, Dean. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Good night, Sam,” Castiel said, being entirely too calm about the situation and dashing any hopes Dean had of denial. Well, this was going to be a fun morning.

Dean awoke with his face buried in Castiel’s shoulder, his arm slung across his chest. The angel had his eyes closed as if he were sleeping and Dean knew that it was just a facade, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that this allowed him to take in their closeness for a bit longer than he’d be able to otherwise. He could feel the rise and fall of Castiel’s chest, hear his heartbeat. Dean wondered if this too was a facade; if the human form could go on without these life-sustaining functions as long as it had a high-powered being inside of it. Dean wondered —

Dean’s eyes went wide and he jumped off of Castiel, flying so fast it looked like he was being flung across the room by a demon. The hunter spun around to face Sam’s bed, suddenly remembering what happened last night. To his surprise and relief, his brother wasn’t there.

“Sam went out to get breakfast,” Castiel said from behind him. Dean turned back to him and saw that he was still lying on his back, eyes closed, as if he had no cares in the world.

“So then he definitely saw us, um…” Dean said hesitantly, trailing off.

“Snuggling? I’m afraid so,” Cas finished for him.

“Dammit,” Dean growled. He ran a hand down his face in frustration. This was the last thing he wanted to happen. Not only did Sam know about his torturing in Hell and his nightmares about it, now he knew about his self-indulgent coping methods.

“I’m sorry he found out,” Castiel said, finally opening his eyes. “He didn’t seem upset about it, however.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond. Because of course Sam wasn’t throwing a hissy fit, but that didn’t make any of this better. Dean was supposed to be his big brother, what kind of example is he setting?  
Sam chose this moment to return with breakfast, which consisted of three coffees, one omelet, and one stack of pancakes (the latter of which Dean could smell from across the room). The younger Winchester had woken up about an hour prior and, seeing the state his brother was in (ie, a comfortable if incriminating one), had decided to give Cas and Dean some privacy. He still had to make minimal small talk with Castiel, as the angel was awake and wanted to know where Sam was going before he left. But now Sam was back, with breakfast and questions and no idea of how to handle this.

“Hey guys,” Sam said. He placed the food on the motel’s sorry excuse for a dining table and then went through the menu. Eggs for him, pancakes for Dean. “I didn’t really know what to get you, Cas, so I just went with coffee.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, still lying in Dean’s bed, which was an odd observation for Sam to make, but one that he couldn’t get out of his head. Dean had strategically placed himself as far away from the angel as possible, as if that changed anything.

The three men stood for a moment in silence, unsure of who had the most right to speak first. After giving exasperated looks to the hunters, Castiel took matters into his own hands. “I think it’d be best if I spoke to Sam alone, for just a moment.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he imagined the inevitable outcome of this: Cas stumbling over a million innuendos, telling Sam that they _spoon_ for God’s sake, giving him the wrong idea. Dean opened his mouth to protest —

Castiel vanished from the room, taking Sam with him.

They transported just outside the room, but that was all the privacy they needed. The angel had changed back into his signature trench coat on the short flight from room to sidewalk, which made Sam realize that Cas was very much so in pajamas just moments before. This wasn’t a groundbreaking realization by any means, but the thought of an Angel of The Lord, especially stony-faced, righteous Castiel, in PJs almost made Sam want to laugh.

“Are you upset?” Cas asked, not one to beat around the bush.

Sam considered his answer. Such a straightforward question (so Castiel) that wanted a straightforward response. Sam tried his best to satisfy the question’s needs.

“I’m upset that Dean didn’t tell me,” he said carefully.

“Dean’s embarrassed,” Castiel said. “He doesn’t want to appear weak.”

Sam’s face scrunched together in confusion. “How would this make him seem weak?”

“Well, you know him. He doesn’t like to rely on other people.”

 _Rely on other people?_ Sam repeated to himself in his head. He felt that this was an odd phrase to describe this situation, which, based on his inferences, was a romantic relationship.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Sam asked. He’d been picking up on something between his brother and the angel for ages now, but a part of him had always thought that it was all in his head. It was weird to imagine Dean “Womanizer” Winchester crushing on a guy, much less the celestial being that dragged him out of Hell. Weird, but totally okay. Absolutely, one hundred percent, completely okay. And of course Dean would think otherwise, that Sam would judge him, so Sam could understand the secrecy. But it still hurt to have your brother sneaking around with his boyfriend right under your nose.

“It’s been about a week,” Castiel responded, having no idea what was going through Sam’s mind. For the angel, it seemed evident what was happening. Just a friend helping another friend make it through the night. Cas, with all his newfound knowledge of humanity and its ticks, was unaware of what it looked like when one found two people sharing sheets.

Sam was glad that he wasn’t in the dark for too long. This way, he can imagine that Dean would’ve told him in his own timely manner, and not kept this from his brother. The important thing now was that Sam knew.

“Um, congratulations, I guess,” Sam grinned, finally taking a moment to appreciate that his two favorite dorks were together. “I’m really happy for you two.”

Castiel quirked his head, still not getting what Sam was thinking.

“I didn’t think congratulations would be in order,” Cas said. He knew he didn’t understand earth customs all too well, but this felt a little too confusing to just be a misunderstanding on his part.

“It might have been a little weird on my part,” Sam said sheepishly, “But this is a big deal. I don’t think Dean’s ever had a boyfriend before and —”

 _Oh no_.

“I’m afraid you have drastically misread this situation,” Castiel blurted out at the word ‘boyfriend’. “We’re just sleeping together.”

Castiel was blissfully unaware of how much worse he made the situation.

Sam felt his ears go red. He knew Dean was infamous for his casual hook-ups, but it was odd to imagine Castiel being a part of that… And now Sam couldn’t get the thought of his brother and his friend having sex out of his head. Great.

“I didn’t think you were that kind of guy, Cas,” Sam joked, trying to ease the awkwardness.

“What kind?”

“You know,” Sam fidgeted.

“I don’t.”

“Castiel.”

“Sam.”

They stared at each other in silence for another beat before Sam realized that Cas was not going to figure this one out on his own.

“The kind who has casual sex,” Sam murmured.

“We’re not having sex at all!” Castiel was suddenly very glad that he had spoken to Sam first. If Dean were the one to hear all this… Cas couldn’t even imagine how uncomfortable it’d all be.

“Then what are you doing?” Sam was suddenly very confused.

“I sleep with him so he doesn’t have nightmares.”

“Oh,” Sam said, feeling a bit dumb now. He figured he should’ve guessed that that’s what was happening instead of immediately concluding that Dean and Castiel were dating. Well, at least his brother didn’t hear this painful conversation.

Sam and Cas were right to be grateful that Dean didn’t hear any of what they said. While their awkward but enlightening conversation was happening, Dean was busy fretting inside the motel room, the usual thoughts flying through his head. Sam and Cas tried to put him out of his misery as soon as they could. Once Sam understood that his brother and the angel were sleeping together in the literal sense, and for business purposes only, he and Castiel flew back into the room (despite the fact that they both could have easily used the door). The subsequent discussion went much better than Dean had expected, but since he was something of a pessimist, this wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone else.

And so, Dean and Castiel continued to sleep together

Dean Winchester and Castiel, Angel of The Lord, shared various motel beds for most nights up until the end of the apocalypse. Of course, there were notable exceptions. Like when Castiel went on a bender, Dean insisted on giving himself to Michael, or they were just too busy. There came a point when the question arose of whether or not Dean still needed this unorthodox treatment for his night terrors. All parties involved wondered about the answer to this question, though no one dared speak it into existence. This silence was because, despite what the two men would tell themselves and others, they liked sleeping together. Neither wanted to say something that would potentially jeopardize the arrangement.

But then Sam flung himself into the pit and Dean was left with a promise he made to his little brother to get out of the life. Dean loved Lisa and Ben, he truly did, but he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t consider settling down with a certain celestial being instead. But that particular celestial being proclaimed that he was now busy playing sheriff in heaven, and Dean figured that he belonged with Lisa as much as Castiel belonged in heaven. For the entirety of Dean’s domestic venture, he didn’t see Castiel even once.

The angel did visit on one occasion, unbeknownst to Dean, but he thought about the man much more. It didn’t much matter what Castiel thought, though, because Dean didn’t need him anymore. The apocalypse had been averted, Dean had a new bed partner, and while Castiel couldn’t say that he was equally uneeding, he accepted that he was no longer part of the Winchester story.  
When Dean inevitably did get back into hunting alongside his resurrected, soulless brother, Castiel did visit from time to time. Never to pretend-sleep, though. Things with Dean were just so different after the year apart. Yes, they were still friends, but Cas had a civil war on his shoulders and a devil’s deal on his mind. Dean was upset about Sam, which was Castiel’s fault, and Crowley, who was Castiel’s partner. Then, Castiel’s stint as God and subsequent death and madness put their relationship at a stand-still for another year. Then, there was purgatory and Naomi and that god-awful night with the angel tablet and the “I need you.” Then, because there is always, _always_ a then, the angels fell.

Thus Castiel, member of mankind, found himself at the Men of Letters’ bunker after days of homeless wandering and an unpleasant encounter with a reaper. And as he lay in a soft bed, wearing clean clothes, with a full belly, he found that he still couldn’t sleep. Castiel thought it ironic that after days of sleeping in the most uncomfortable places known to man, the night he’s in an actual bed is among the worst of his sleeping experiences. Granted, while he was sleeping on the streets, the need for survival was strong enough to push his thoughts and fears deep below the surface. Now that he was safe, he couldn’t help but lie awake and think about his many failures. An idea flickered lightly in his mind, a potential solution to his problem, but the former angel tried to ignore it as long as he could. It got to the point that the electronic clock by his bed flashed “1:17” and he could no longer bear to be alone with himself anymore. With a sigh, he pushed the blankets off of him and made his way to the room he remembered belonging to Dean.

He knocked lightly on the door, but when no answer came, he opted to open it a crack. Thankfully, it was unlocked.

“Dean?” Castiel called softly into the darkness.

“Cas?” came the response, Dean’s voice groggy and confused.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure.”

Castiel entered the room and shut the door behind him. Now that he was here, he cursed himself for not thinking through this stage of the idea before he found himself in it.

“I can’t sleep,” Castiel declared.

Dean rustled around in the bed, getting into a sitting position but fortunately for Cas, not turning on the light. The newly demoted man did not want Dean to see his pitiful expressions.

“I figured you’d be out the moment your head hit the pillow,” Dean said. “It’s not like you’ve had an easy day. Or week, for that matter.”

“I thought that too,” Castiel confessed. “But I…”

He struggled to find the words.

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“So you came here to,” Dean paused, “talk?”

Castiel didn’t say anything.

“Do you want to get in bed with me?” Dean said it slowly, nervously. There proved to be no need for his worry, however, because Castiel did as offered the moment the words left Dean’s lips. “It’s been a while since we’ve done this, huh,” Dean chuckled.

“Things are very different now,” Castiel said wistfully.

“I don’t know,” Dean said, “You, me, and Sam always seem to end up together. Fighting some world-ending threat.”

“I can think of a few times where that world-ending threat is my fault,” Castiel said. “Right now included.”

“Cas,” Dean said seriously.

“Dean,” he returned the tone.

“This isn’t your fault, buddy. Metatron tricked you. We’ve all been there before, it happens. We just have to keep moving forward and try to help in whatever way we can.”

“I thought that I was so special. That I was going to save heaven,” Castiel’s voice was loaded with self-loathing. “Well, my hubris locked all of my siblings out of their home and lost me my grace.”

“Your intentions were good.”

“Dean, we both know the saying about good intentions.”

“Sure, but sometimes good intentions are what matter most.”

“After all I’ve done, how can you say that?”

“Because you’re my family and I’m always going to fight for you, Cas.”

There was a long silence after this declaration.

“I’m of no use to you anymore,” Castiel said softly, so quietly that Dean barely heard it.

“Excuse me?” Dean asked, not believing his ears.

“Without my grace, I’m useless,” Castiel gritted his teeth.

“First of all, that’s not true,” Dean said. “Second of all, I don’t give a rat’s ass if you're useful. I care about you, as a person. Or angel, whatever. You know what I mean.”

Another pause, shorter this time.

“Thank you,” Castiel said. “I think I’m going to go to sleep now.”

And, curled up beside his old friend, he did.

Castiel didn’t mean to make it a habit. Really, he figured he’d be better equipped to handle his trauma alone after that first night, but he was proven dreadfully wrong. So, he found himself in Dean’s bed night after night until it got to the point that he didn’t even go to his own room first. For efficiency’s sake, of course. Contrary to the precedent set by the first night, their pillow talk wasn’t always a discussion of morals. It actually evolved into generally being easy chat between friends, which is how Castiel stay with April became the topic one night, and why Dean felt comfortable enough to ask about it.

“You didn’t know anything about sex before then?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Not really. You recall how I reacted when you brought me to a brothel on our hunt for Raphael?”

“Of course. The look on your face was priceless,” Dean laughed.

Castiel couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed that he, in his many years of existence, never sought to understand human reproduction beyond basic readings. But there was just so much else to know. So many better things to fill his time and mind with. He told Dean this.

“You’ve never even been interested?”

“No,” Castiel confessed.

“But you’ve watched porn.”

“I like television.”

“That is _not_ the same,” Dean barked out another laugh. “Wait, so you weren’t interested in having sex with April?”

“She was nice, but no, I just went along because she wanted to.”

Dean thought about this for a moment.

“For future reference, you probably shouldn't have sex with someone just because they want to. It’s a two-way street.”

“Noted. I should also probably verify that they aren’t a reaper intent on killing me before having sex with them either.”

“Yeah, that’s a solid plan,” Dean said. “Though you couldn’t have really known.”

“I suppose,” Castiel sighed. “Honestly, I don’t see myself having sex again.”

“Aw buddy, please don’t let April ruin it for you,” Dean said sympathetically.

“She didn’t,” Castiel said firmly. “I’ve never been interested in sex and I never will be.”

Dean pondered this for a moment.

“Maybe if you met the right person?” Dean suggested.

“I believe I have, but I still don’t want to have sex,” Castiel squirmed slightly at the confession.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I don’t wish to discuss this further.”

“Do I know her?” Dean teased.

The former angel humphed and turned over on his side, back to Dean.

“Geez, sorry, Cas. I won’t push.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly. “Good night.”

“So,” Sam said with a shit-eating smirk as he stirred his morning coffee. “You and Cas.”

“What about me and Cas?” Dean grumbled.

“Come on, Dean, I know you’ve started sleeping together again.”

“Okay,” Dean said, dragging out the first syllable. “Wow, you really need to get out more if this is the most exciting gossip you have.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You should really say something to him, this time around.”

“Say what?” Dean asked. “Quit beating around the bush.”

Sam looked at his brother, hard, for a solid seven seconds.

“I think you know what I’m getting at.”

Dean did. He did and he hated that he did and he hated that Sam was getting at it.

“I don’t think that it’d go well,” Dean said, lowering his voice in case Castiel was nearby.

“I don’t see how it couldn’t. You two have been gazing into each other's eyes for five years.”

“You read to many romance novels, Fabio.”

“I don’t need to read them when I’ve had to watch you guys,” Sam said. “I’d tell you to get a room but you already have one.”

They smirked for a moment at that.

“I’m not sure that he feels feelings like that,” Dean said. “Like, at all.”

“What would make you say that?”

“He’s not interested in sex.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel romantic attraction.”

Dean mused on this. “He said that he thinks he’s met the right person for him. I don’t know if they’re still around but —”

“You idiot,” Sam laughed.

“What?” Dean demanded.

“He was talking about you, dumbass,” Sam said, still laughing.

Oh. _Oh_.

“You think?” Dean didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Obviously. I don’t see him sleeping with anyone else.”

Dean’s mind raced a mile a minute and his heart wasn’t far behind.

“I… I better go talk to him,” he said, pushing himself out of his chair abruptly.

Dean searched throughout the bunker in a manner that most would call frantic. He found Castiel is some storage room, taking stock of whatever was in there. The newly-human man found it quite enjoyable to discover the secrets of their home. His nearly omniscient knowledge proved to be very valuable.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, trying to sound casual but evidently failing.

“Is everything alright?” Castiel asked, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, It’s just — Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

In two strides, Castiel was right in front of Dean. But he’d learned a thing or two about personal space over the years, so he wasn’t quite as close as he could’ve been.

“Cas, I,” Dean didn’t know how to say what he felt, so he figured he’d go for the straightforward approach. “I love you.”

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Dean quickly blurted out more.

“In a romantic way,” he clarified.

Castiel let out a breath that neither had been aware he was holding.

“I love you too,” he said. “In a romantic way.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment, and then suddenly they were kissing. The kiss was of notable length, but it was chaste and very much the culmination of years of pining and fear and repression.

“And I don’t even have to ask you to move in with me,” Dean joked after they pulled away. Cas smiled and realized how unbelievably thankful he was that he decided to help Dean in that motel room all those nights ago. Dean was thinking similar thoughts.

“Thank you for saving me,” Dean said softly, talking about more than just being raised from perdition. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said, just as softly. “You save me every day.”


End file.
